


Erlebnisse

by lluviadinoche



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Broken Bones, Chronic Illness, Chronic Pain, Domestic Disputes, Fights, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Blood, Multi, Polyamorous Character, Polyamory, Threats of Violence, bring back hetalia 2020, spain speaks spanish, the BFT is now called the Bad Bitch Trio dont @ me im right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:22:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24965158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lluviadinoche/pseuds/lluviadinoche
Summary: His life and experiences seemed stuck around his health and even in a situation where Antonio is hurt, it always seems to turn back to him. It's as if the world cannot fathom turning without reminding him of his limitations.Bad Friends Trio (Bad Bitch Trio) Polyam oneshot for Max
Relationships: France/Prussia/Spain (Hetalia)
Kudos: 22





	Erlebnisse

**Author's Note:**

> Wow look at that, I came back from the dead and am actually going to be writing with Hetabang being over? Nice. I still vote that we change the name of the trio of France, Prussia, and Spain to Bad Bitch trio due to the connotations of BTT and the lack of flow in BFT
> 
> Also I choose not to translate the Spanish because I feel that just adds to the experience of reading it. You are either Antonio knowing Spanish or you're Gilbert wondering what the hell he's saying. I choose to only translate things that need to be from now on bc I think it makes the experience of reading it more unique for everyone c:

Gilbert’s life always seemed to revolve around his health one way or another. Even when he met Antonio, it was about his health. The two had been in the same hospital. Gilbert being there after falling down the stairs when he fainted and Antonio having gotten a nasty concussion.

_“A la madre! Am I seeing shit or are you an angel?”_

_“If that was you trying to flirt, it was pathetic.”_

_“Ah, not an angel then. Eres un demonio.”_

And despite Antonio being insufferable and not knowing how to _shut the fuck up about Moon Pies,_ Gilbert found his company somewhat relieving.

_“So what do you do?”_

_“Aw, don’t you recognize my face, guerrito?”_

_“Antonio, how many times do I have to tell you that I can’t fucking see? Also having a white boy tan doesn’t make you not white-”_

Apparently too many times.

And yet, Gilbert didn’t really care because the way Antonio always stepped back, repeated his sentences, his muttered little “mierda”s and the quick turns of his head said the words he knew Antonio couldn’t say himself.

Pride was a funny little thing he understood far too well. He seemed to be the only one who understood that when it came to Antonio.

Gilbert was never one to ask for help, he didn’t even ask for it from Francis and it was a thing his boyfriend seemed very keen on nagging him about. Though in all fairness, as dear as Francis was to Gilbert, his opinions sucked ass in _his_ absolutely _professional_ opinion.

French people didn’t deserve opinions. But Francis was an exception….half of the time at least.

Pride…

He wondered if Antonio would ever stop biting on his tongue and realize that he was allowed to weep.

_“My boyfriend should be coming today!”_

_“You have a boyfriend?”_

_“Yeah, he’s a dumb pretty boy. And an editor for a pretty rad fashion magazine. Always looks like he’s trying to flex his money.”_

_“Oh. That’s cool.”_

He knew he said something wrong, but couldn’t quite figure out what that day. He would find out a few days later that Antonio had developed a crush on him in their little stay in the hospital. That was one of his most tragic flaws; he fell in love so easily.

But Gilbert supposed it worked well in their favor. Because despite Antonio’s packed schedule, he always found time to visit him and get to know Francis as well. So naturally, it didn’t take much longer from there for him to fall for Francis as well. His heart was so big and Gilbert was sure that if it had been anyone else in that hospital room, Antonio would have gotten his heart broken.

And with that pride, he didn’t want to imagine how Antonio would have reacted when he got his heart torn apart. Gilbert knew all too well that he wasn’t the type to move past it. He physically couldn’t and the thought of him clinging to something like that forever tore him apart.

Maybe that’s what drew him to asking Francis if he’d be okay with Antonio joining their relationship. They were so much alike and yet so very different. Antonio had a heart of glass that held so much rage. He had a head hard as stone and ambition that combatted his. He also had the soul of a hopeless romantic, much like Francis. They both knew how to murmur the sweetest things. Both often let their own wants drive them to stupid decisions that they struggled to fix. Francis and Antonio got along together almost the exact moment they saw each other and Gilbert was grateful.

Their relationship was a dream to him. Yes, there were the occasional fights; but nobody was immune to those. They all understood each other in an odd way. They were all so alike and yet so incredibly different. Francis being out there, a known fashion editor, Antonio being a soccer coach for a high school team that he adored like no other (and it often made the other two worry about his baby fever), and Gilbert simply being a professor who also loved his students but it was because they weren’t children and they didn’t throw a fit when he said “fuck” in class when he dropped things even if it was on camera. They all came back from interesting days (sort of, being a political science professor was more interesting in the sense of watching the Devil’s Advocate and the Marxist go at it on a call was...something) and spoke what they thought. They ate whatever Francis and Antonio made (because Gilbert was hardly trusted with cooking). There was always some music in the background because his boyfriends seemed to adore the aesthetic of an old cafe and really, he didn’t have any qualms. It’s what made Gilbert feel so at peace. 

They were so dorky and weird and dumb. They were the oddest trio, they didn’t have a clue what they were doing sometimes, but he loved every little thing about that.

But God did this last week truly burn him like nothing else before.

Antonio was in the hospital again, but not for a concussion.

A fight broke out and he had been the only adult close enough to try and break it apart. But Antonio was so stupid sometimes. 

He was so incredibly stupid.

What made him think it was wise to step in between two brawling students much larger than him? What made him think he was fit to really step in between a brawl anyway? What was he thinking? Antonio wasn’t fit for those things. He was a mess of a man who hadn’t the slightest idea what he was supposed to do in a situation like that.

All it took was a few hits and he was on the ground with two broken ribs and a busted ass nose. Yeah, it stopped the fight, but not the way it should have been stopped.

As soon as he got the news that he was in the hospital because of it, he collapsed. Of course, that didn’t really help with the situation and the panic and stress everyone felt. It especially didn’t help Francis who was now to take care of both of his injured boyfriends.

But that was what set him off.

He wasn’t the one with two broken ribs. He had bruised himself up and maybe sprained his wrist at the most. Still, Francis kept him in bed, and honestly, he was never more grateful that he taught over video for the most part anyway because this was absolutely humiliating.

“I don’t want the both of you to be in the hospital, Gilbert. Please, just heal up and then you can see Antonio. He might even be out by then.”

That, as well as the intentions behind those words were, left a sour taste in his mouth. For the first time in ages, he wished he were single. He didn’t say it to Francis’ face, despite how irritated he was, he couldn’t bear the thought of crushing him with cruel words his mind begged him to scream. Instead, his lips went into a thin line and he turned his head away slowly.

Francis must have realized his mistake because he tried to meet Gilbert’s eyes only to be met with more head turns.

He huffed.

Gilbert only seethed more.

“I didn’t mean it like that...I only meant to say-”

“Francis please let me rest.” he didn’t bother to let him finish. _He didn’t deserve it._ He was irritated, tired, _done_ with the way everyone treated him. He especially wouldn’t take it from him. Not now anyway. _“I don’t remember asking for an overbearing mother when I agreed to date you.”_

“A-ah...alright…” Francis sucked in his cheek.

He thanked whatever higher being was out there that he couldn’t see much because he knew that Francis’ expression would tear his heart apart.

The door shut and he didn’t even have the comfort of silence.

He hated that he was alone. He hated that he had said _that._ He hated that he could hear every noise in the apartment and the cars honking their horns outside. He hated that he could hear the birds and everything that he didn’t want to hear because it reminded him of how trapped he felt at all times.

So he stared at the wall.

And he stared.

And he must have disassociated for quite a bit because when he blinked, it was dark in the room and the music that normally played loudly for dinner was so quiet that he nearly thought Francis had left in anger.

So against his wishes, he stood up slowly, his joints in absolute pain while cracking like a rice crispy’s treat, and made his way to the kitchen where sure enough, Francis was cooking.

“You’re supposed to be in bed, Gilbert.” he said flatly. He didn’t bother to stop cutting the vegetables he had, “You know what exerting yourself too much can do-”

“Can you not be whack about this for five minutes?” he snapped, “I’m not four, Francis and I’ve been living with this shit health all my life. I think I know how to not kill myself.”

The cutting stopped but Francis quickly winced and jumped back. The knife clattered to the ground and his finger went to his mouth.

And as much as Gilbert wanted to still be angry, his love for him took over. He grabbed the first aid kit, ignoring how his heart raced and how his joints ached and cracked like no other just to get to him and pull out a bandaid.

Francis had dark circles under his eyes when he met his eyes, “Gilbert, you should be-”

Why did it always come back to his health?

“I swear to god if you tell me to lay down, I’m going to rip the rest of your finger off for you. Fran, I’m fine!” the sweat on his brow and his bright red face whispered other things.

“You don’t look fine, Gil..” he tried to reach to cup his cheek with the uninjured hand but it was smacked away. He pursed his lips and pushed the cutting board away.

Gilbert watched as he went to the other side of the kitchen to wash his hand. He thought that would bring him some satisfaction. He thought it would bring him something to feel better about how stressful the last few days seemed to be, but all it did was make him feel even worse.

“Francis I-”

“I’m doing my best Gilbert.” it was his turn to speak and Gilbert, as overbearing as he could be in conversations, took the hint and stepped back.

“I’m doing my best.” Francis repeated, “I suppose I’ve been overbearing. I didn’t know how to react to find you on the ground when I came home after I told you. I should have waited until I was home. And - I’m sorry that I patronized you earlier. That wasn’t my intention.”

He decided this might be a long conversation and pulled up a stool. He avoided looking at him thought and opted to staring at a spot on the counter that he had been trying to scrub away for months. Though he couldn’t see clearly so maybe it was a burn and he was just stupid. Goddamn vision impairment, “It still made me feel like shit. Even if you didn’t mean it. You’re not the only one worried about Antonio. We both know he’s stupid and that this incident could have been worse for him. I’m worried too and I want to see him but you making me feel like some dumb kid who can’t take care of myself isn’t helping me feel any more at ease about myself or Toni.”

“I didn’t want you to overexert yourself was all. Your reaction to this - finding you like that- it had me scared you were going to be in there too.”

“Francis, you’ve known me for how long? Have I ever been one to typically overexert myself?”

“No but-”

“Then why are you worried now?”

“Gilbert!”

He looked up and there was Francis. He was close enough that he could actually tell what he looked like and he couldn’t decide if he hated or loved that he was that close.

Those bright blue eyes were flooded with tears. That ugly beard that always scratched when they kissed. Those blond locks that he ran his fingers through so many times with Antonio.

God…

He missed Antonio.

How pathetic was that? Feelings. Not practical at all in his opinion.

“Normally you don’t. I’ll give you that. But when you’re stressed or angry or irritated, you cannot sit here and tell me that you do not push your limits.”

So maybe he did.

But could Francis even blame him right now?

Maybe..

Oh god. Emotions

His face was red again, but not from his heart. Now he was humiliated and confused and in pain and a million things he tried to balance only to have them come raining down on him.

“He’s so goddamn stupid.” he muttered, collapsing and flopping over to hug Francis.

“I know he is. How on Earth did he function before us?” there was strained laughter.

Gilbert laughed, pretending that he wasn’t sobbing into Francis’ silk shirt, “You’d think working in sports would have taught him you’re supposed to let them brawl it out if the fight has already started. But he’s so stupid...why is he so stupid..?”

“I don’t know. But maybe we should both talk about this more, yeah? Because the last thing I want to do is make you feel coddled and patronized. And I know things are stressful and not fun.”

“I’d like that.”

* * *

“Hey, I don’t remember ordering a couple of male strippers.” Antonio’s eyes lit up as he saw Gilbert there with Francis too, “Especially not you, guerrito.”

“Antonio, you’re still white.” Gilbert snickered as he and Francis made their way over beside him, “How are you doing, dumbass?”  
“Aw, and here I thought I was going to get kisses from my boyfriends. Instead I’m being bullied. Such pain! Such betrayal! How will I ever recover? I might just be here forever!”

“Anto, always so dramatic.” Francis chuckled, tapping his nose, “If you had handled that fight properly you could have been getting kisses this entire time.”

Gilbert rolled his eyes and lay his head gently next to Antonio, “Stupid ass. Next time you get in the hospital, you better be prepared for me to pull a stunt to make sure I’m right next to you in here again. I hate worrying over you. That’s some gay shit.”

“What is our relationship then, blanquito?” Antonio hummed, reaching to play with Gilbert’s hair, “Francis, don’t tell me we’ve been giving each other brojobs this entire time?”

“I’m afraid so. We’re actually in fact, very heterosexual.”

Antonio gasped, putting a hand to his head, “I can’t believe it! I should have known from the fact we all wear socks in the house.”

Gilbert kept listening but didn’t say a thing. He missed having all of them together. He missed Antonio being their real life soap opera character. He missed the way he gently combed through their hair and how even when he wasn’t saying anything, he didn’t feel left out of the conversation.

For once, the hospital was nice.


End file.
